


Still Water

by Reis_Asher



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Empath Will Graham, Feelings Realization, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25609117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: It might have been love at first sight, a flash of lightning in a world unused to rainstorms.Will doesn't yet know what to make of Hannibal, but in a world where he's assaulted by people's unsolicited displays of emotion, his inability to read anything coming from Hannibal is a source of peace and comfort.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	Still Water

Will closed his eyes to filter out the emotions rolling off his students like a thick, smothering fog. The woman seated in the second row had puffy red rings around her eyes from crying, though Will suspected it wasn't related to the lecture but the cellphone cradled between her thighs, its light reflected in her pupils. The short guy seated in the back appeared pale and clammy, like he was about to be sick. He wasn't going to make it into the FBI. It wasn't like Will could judge. He hadn't made the cut either.

The information Will gleaned from his audience was always distracting, and the only way he could get through talking about serial killers was to pretend he was presenting to an empty room. Otherwise the revulsion and horror seemed directed at him, as if Will was tainted by association for looking into the minds of terrible people and presenting them for the world to see. Guilty conscience? Perhaps. He'd gazed into the void too often that sometimes it was hard to separate where he ended and the violence began.

Hannibal and Jack stood in the entryway to the lecture hall. They'd tried to make their entrance surreptitious, as if Will didn't notice the smallest changes in a room. Will caught a smirk playing across Hannibal's lips out of the corner of his eye—or perhaps he imagined it. He liked to think Hannibal was listening and approving of him in some manner. He didn't know what Hannibal thought of him, if he was honest. His empathy didn't seem to extend to Dr. Lecter. The man gave so little away it was like working with a blank slate. When he tried to look into Hannibal's eyes, he felt a deafening silence, as if he was trying to look into a machine and not a human being. Yet he was far from empty. Hannibal was a fascinating, learned man, and a fantastic cook. Will felt like he could talk to him for hours about anything and everything.

It was refreshing and strange all at once. He'd never experienced the desire to spend more time in the company of others. His simple loneliness was quickly met with overstimulation when he tried to reach out to people, and he retreated to solitude to escape it.

The overwhelming noise and chaos of the world seemed to melt away when he was in Hannibal's office, though, as if he was alone without being alone. The man was calm as still water, his emotions controlled and reserved. Hannibal was dignified, compared to the emotional bleeding out most people seemed to accomplish in daily life.

_I don't find you particularly interesting._ He hadn't, at first. He'd mistaken Lecter's calm for indifference, his verbose speech patterns for smug, pompous arrogance, but the further they seemed to fall into the rabbit hole surrounding Abigail Hobbs and the Minnesota Shrike's copycat killer, the more he found himself leaning on Hannibal for support. He could trust Dr. Lecter. Hannibal hadn't passed judgment when Will had admitted that killing Garret Jacob Hobbs felt righteous. He couldn't imagine having that conversation with Alana. She'd be afraid to be alone in a room with him again.

"Will." Will snapped back to the moment, realizing class was over and his students were filing out. His name on Hannibal's lips almost sounded like a prayer. He spoke it like nobody else.

Where had that thought come from? Will took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He really needed to get some proper sleep. Something that didn't end with violent nightmares and soaked sheets.

"Let us go and see Abigail." Hannibal's voice was like a tether, keeping Will grounded in the real world. Will reached for it, hanging onto the way each word sounded deliberate and planned. Hannibal was stable. Will could trust him, use him as a compass when he became lost among the trees. He started to walk alongside Hannibal, admiring the crisp lines of his suit. Jack walked ahead of them, keeping his silence, and Will knew he was listening. Trying to gauge Will's state of mind.

Will decided to humor Jack and struck up a conversation with Hannibal. "I saw you in Abigail's hospital room. Holding her hand."

"As I told you before, I feel responsible," Hannibal stated. "We are both her fathers, in a sense."

Jack's head snapped around so fast that Will was sure he gave himself whiplash. Jack cleared his throat, recovering his composure, and turned back just before he almost walked into a door. The weight of Hannibal's words finally sank in and Will let out a small laugh, a stupid grin crossing his face at the thought of co-parenting a daughter with Hannibal. That would be the oddest family ever—a psychologist, an unstable profiler, and the daughter of a serial killer who Jack believed to be involved in his crimes. It wasn't an unpleasant notion to ruminate on, however. Far from it. He kind of liked the idea.

Alana peeled Jack away, leaving Will and Hannibal alone at the exit. Hannibal opened the door and held it for Will to pass through. Gravel crunched beneath Will's feet as they crossed the lot.

"Why did you laugh back there, Will?" Hannibal asked.

"I thought Jack was going to break his neck." Will grinned. "I think he took you literally about us being Abigail's fathers."

"How does that make you feel?" Hannibal pressed.

Will paused, aware they were in a public lot and not the quiet of Hannibal's office. Hannibal's expression was thoughtful and serious, and Will could tell he wasn't looking for some crass, homophobic, locker-room response. He was above that. Will could be honest.

"I think that sounds nice. I've always wanted to be a parent. I'd be a good father."

Hannibal smiled, and this time Will did feel something roll off him when their eyes met. He couldn't name the emotion until years later, when he woke in Molly's bed with tears in his eyes and an ache in his chest. 

Abigail was long gone, the teacup irreparably broken—and yet here, in the dark, soaked in sweat, he realized Hannibal had been trying to communicate his longing, even then. It had been so loud amongst the silence of Hannibal's emotions that Will had failed to properly recognize it, but he understood it now. Hannibal was in love with him. It might have been love at first sight, a flash of lightning in a world unused to rainstorms. The still water of the lake had been electrified by Will's appearance, and he'd been blind to his effect on Hannibal until it was far too late. 

Will rested his head back on the pillow and stifled a sob that threatened to become a crazed laugh. Even here, he couldn't escape Hannibal. They were still conjoined.

It was only a matter of time before the storm rumbled over the lake again, the water conducting his lightning, drawing Will back to Hannibal with the inevitability of the laws of nature.


End file.
